Sep 23

I May Have Jumped The Gun

Birdman

I woke up this morning feeling like I had been trampled by a herd of Woodland Caribou. I guess I got feeling a little too rambunctious and invincible at the thought of finally being rid of the stone. I have slept and lounged around all day, and barely had enough energy to type this blog entry up.

I’m back to work tomorrow, so I guess it’s good to rest. What the hell am I saying? I shouldn’t be feeling this old yet. I’m not even forty for the love of Pete. Wait, am I forty now? No, I’m pretty sure I’m thirty nine still.

Holy shit, time is starting to gain ground on me, and I don’t like it. Two weeks ago I was riding my bicycle with my brother on what we thought was the longest bike ride taken by man. We got to pack a lunch, and ride to the gravel pit, where we set up camp and ate our sandwiches, hand picked apples and cookies. We had a wineskin full of Freshie and a few survival tools in the backpack (I think there was a compass and a jackknife). We were knights on our hard journey, and no one could have told us that four miles could easily be cycled in an hour or so. Okay, maybe that wasn’t two weeks ago, but it certainly couldn’t be have been thirty years, could it?

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Every once in a while I’ll notice it in the mirror. The lines, age spots, tired eyes, etc… I wonder what we do it all for? Is this what life was intended to be like for the human race? I have a hard time believing that from the dawn of existence, (I’ll let you all figure out what that means) we were meant to work our asses off, just to be able to possess some “things”. I love Thoreau’s outlook on life from the shores of Walden Pond. He realized that there is more to life than keeping up appearances and slaving your life away for someone else. He wanted to live his life deliberately, and so he did.

There is a life to live out there, and we shouldn’t go to the grave with any regrets, so call your brother up. Ask him if he wants to go for a ride or a beer and talk about how you miss those days. Maybe that gravel pit is still there, or the offspring of that apple tree. Eat a couple of apples while you throw rocks at nothing and think back to simpler times. Cherish these moments, because you can, and because you never know if you’ll get the chance.

Enjoy what life has to offer my friends,

Birdman

P.S. Don’t have too many beer when you get together. There are few things worse than staving drunk assholes, crying about how they need to spend more time together, and vomiting beer mixed with sour apple chunks.

Sep 15

I Love Date Night

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I just don’t love how tired I am the next morning. I keep trying to knock it out of park like I’m twenty, but in reality I’m rounding forty, can rarely make it through a night without getting up to pee and I have an arthritic shoulder. I also don’t like that women peak so late in life, when men are starting to feel the abuse that their bodies have taken over the years. Had I known, I wouldn’t have done things like, but not limited to:

  • Jumping out of speeding watercraft
  • Seeing how many headbutts I could take before concussing (7)
  • Seeing how many girls I could kiss, without getting herpes (18)
  • Jumping off of assorted bridges, because Scooter did it.
  • Punching bouncers
  • Other various feats of strength

Of course, my male ego likes to make me think I’m worn out because I last so long and go at it with such adolescent enthusiasm that any mortal man would faint at the task, but I think if we ask Mrs. Birdman, we would learn differently. (Excuse me as I weep silently, while clutching at the last shreds of my manliness.)

 

Oh well, now that the kids are back to school, we can get back on schedule, which is date night every Wednesday, and on every other Thursday is the best day of all. (drumroll please) Wing/date night. Jesus, can life get any better than a carnivorous, beer fueled feeding frenzy, followed by seven minutes of blissful passion?

I don’t think so.
Thanks for being here for me,
Birdman

Sep 13

The Cocoon

You might be asking yourself, “What the hell is cocooning?”.

Well, cocooning is anything that happens in the cocoon. The cocoon, because I know you are curious, is a magical place that we sleep in, but that isn’t really a place at all. It would have to be defined as a feeling and a warmth. We have cocooned at the cabin, and in the van, but mostly we cocoon in the bedroom. It can be anywhere that you throw a warm blanket around yourselves and snuggle into.

The ultimate cocoon?

The ultimate cocoon?

(photo credit)

The cocoon is where we find out about each other, and ourselves. Where we can lay there, adoring one another for an eternity, just staring admiringly at each other and wondering how we got so lucky. It doesn’t matter what shitty, foul kind of day we have had, it is all washed away in the cocoon. Another cool feature of the cocoon, is the way time almost stops there. We have woke up at 5:30 AM and just cocooned away until mid afternoon, with nothing more than a few sips of water and whatever chip crumbs we could scrounge up from the bags on the floor. It’s like a modern day Narnia, but with more nudity and better candy (Turkish Delight sucks).

Speaking of Narnia. Does anyone else think Mr. Tumnus was on the verge of being a dangerous offender? Luring children to his cave, drugging them and acting really creepy with his flute and pedophile beard. I’m not an expert by any means, but I think a few parents nowadays would be on the lookout for that dude.

Now back to the cocoon. It’s also a place for frolic and shenanigans of the highest order. That can be anything from wrestling to backrubs to kissing and maybe even a little whoopee. I think you folks (if more than one person reads this) know what the highest order of shenanigans could entail.

It’s also nice because I can say anything in the cocoon without fear of being judged or laughed at (except maybe my Chewbacca impression). The cocoon is also where we make our plans for the day (which usually end up with the first half being more cocooning). If you don’t already have a cocoon, you need to get to work on that now, it is one of those things that can easily keep two people together with a bond that can’t be broken by the average things that break bonds.

On a more sad note, you cannot cocoon with just anyone. I have found out that cocooning only works properly if two people truly respect and love each other.

 

For instance, you can’t cocoon with a stalker type, because they always out cocoon you with their crazy doe eyes, their misshapen, crazy tits and their knocking you out and tying you to the bed, just to possess you for a few extra moments until the cops get there, because the crazy bitch forgot to take your cell phone and you were able to dial 911 and let the phone GPS pinpoint your location for the local authorities to find you.

Find the right  person, and cocoon the shit out of them. Your relationship will thank you.

Muskrat, muskrat candlelight, doin’ the town and doin’ it right,

Birdman